The Last Broadcast

force its way in. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold night air clawing at his lungs as he tried to process everything

ere muffled now, the violent storm seemingly distant as if the world itself had become more silent, more still. The ma

und almost drowned out by the pounding in h

ocu

mergency lights, and the old furniture made the place feel more like a museum than a radio station. But it wa

ed his gaze toward the radio transmitter, which was still alive with static.

they're wa

was unmistakable now-it was the same voice he had heard on the

ense of the message. The radio seemed to resist, crackling and shifting in frequency with every turn. Nothing felt real anymor

is heart skipped, and he felt a cold sweat break out along his spine. His instincts screamed at him to hide, to lock the doors and nev

en..

t. He moved cautiously toward the door, each step hesitant and filled with dread. The storm outside was relentless, and

to the w

m itself had taken on a voice, or perhaps it was the wind-no, it was the voice. A voice tha

ning it, his breath held tight in his chest. The door creaked open with an eerie groan, and Ben stepped into the hallway, his hea

e house felt even colder now, the storm's fury outside only magnifying the chill in the ai

the storm's fury. The night outside seemed to stretch on fo

d a beat. The same figures from before, standing silently in the yard, their faces obscured by the

ime, they

retreat, to get inside and lock the door, but the figures were alre

and plunging the station into darkness. Ben's breath hitched, and for a sp

n-**a v

to make sense of. But Ben could feel it in his bones. T

im, as if the storm itself had reached out and closed it. The room felt colder now, the temperatu

're com

earer now, wa

neath him, but he fought to s

ch Ben's attention. The shadows in the station seemed to shift with it

station wasn't safe anymore. The storm had transformed it into something else-something far m

the figure stepped for

o the bone. His eyes were not human-there was something unnatural about them, something that made Ben's blood run cold. The man was smiling,

have stayed in

ered in a voice so c

th him, but the figure stepped closer, his every movem

air thick with tension. The whispers came again, louder now, and

s smile

t have mu

arkness, leaving Ben standing there in stunned silence. The station felt qu

. He had to survive. But whatever was out there, whatev

rowl that seemed to shake the very foundation of t

ething much darker. And Ben

-